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Brenda - A Love Story Chapter 1-9 [ M/f f/f ]
by Tom Bombadil
Chapter 1 of 9
**********************************************************************
< Well, I think I know what heaven is like. It can't be any better
than what I have right here, right now. Yes, being 25, I was supposed
to know better, and if anyone had found out, I'd be in jail, or worse,
but there's no way I could have prevented it. I was in love with her,
she said she was in love with me, and, knowing me better than I knew
myself, she took me. That's the only way to describe it. Not that
I'm complaining, you understand, it's just that I had very little say
in the matter.
To understand what happened, I guess I'll have to start at the
beginning. My name is Richard Tyler and I come from a smallish town
in the midwest. I have two younger sisters and a pair of rather
staid, very middle-class parents. Looking back, I can see that my
life was boringly typical and, other than a few incidents, uneventful
until I got to college.
I graduated from high school as normal, got good enough marks to be
accepted into the local U., and went there to study business for a
year. That's when the itch started. I had a steady stream of
girlfriends since I was sixteen, so I thought I knew everything there
was to know. That is, until I met a student from Melbourne here to
study local husbandry and ranching practices. This is not the girl I
fell in love with, but she taught me an awful lot about the world,
especially the world of sex, life, and adventure.
To give you an example, when we first met, I used my best line on her,
one guaranteed to work on most ladies. (I'm 6'2" of long, lean
muscle, and 'a good lookin hunk' according to the friends of both my
sisters). Her response? "Hey, a hayseed. A real one. I've never
met one before. You're not too bad looking either." What can I come
back with after a shot like that? With that accent of hers, it didn't
even sound like an insult. I just smiled and said "Ya got me pegged
right first shot, little lady." I learned more from her in that
first two weeks than I had from all my previous girlfriends put
together.
Besides great, and I mean *great* sex (hey, I was a hayseed from a
small mid-west town - missionary was almost all I knew) she dragged me
to plays, operas, musicals, jazz festivals, restaurants, taught me to
like seafood and real chinese, made me read some of her favourite
fantasy books (first I'd ever heard of some writer named McCaffrey)
and really opened my eyes about the world outside of my home. We both
still managed to get decent grades. It was the second-best time of my
life (the best before now).
She went back home after six months, leaving me to my humdrum world,
one I had to get out of. It was with a lot of effort, work, pleading,
and downright stubbornness that I finally got my way. The deal was,
if I finished two years of college here, with a 3.75 gpa or better, I
could take a year off and go anywhere I wanted, then go to the college
of my choice. Let me tell you, I almost gave up on dating and the
local girls, just going out enough to satisfy my basic urges, and
concentrated on the books and my workouts (have to maintain my
physique).
Well, I did it, barely, and spent that year working my way through New
Zealand, Australia, the Philippines, and most of the far east. By the
time I got back, all the hayseeds were out of my teeth, believe me.
That, my friends, was an education. I came back with most of my
middle-class attitudes and prejudices, well, 'adjusted', you could
call it. That probably contributed in no small way to my current
situation.
Now it was back to work, or rather school, and a part-time job. I
chose San Diego because it reminded me most of the best parts of
Australia, which I'd fallen in love with. I had a job waiting for me
too, through one of my old Prof's, working with some computer jockeys
who needed help putting together business packages. It was decent
pay, the job wasn't too tough, and the hours were very flexible.
College was tougher, since I switched from business to graphic arts,
and had to start over again. My folks just rolled their eyes at me
and said to go for it, as long as I would damned well finish this
time.
Well, now knowing what I liked, I spent a long time finding just the
right place to stay. With my job and a little help from home, I found
it - a beach house I could afford. A two story two bedroom shack
overlooking a rocky shoreline with a sand beach not more than fifteen
minutes walk away, in a quiet suburbia type of place. So what if it
was old. Everybody back home was jealous. It was also the most
important choice I ever made in my life, even though I didn't know it
then.
Between college and work, I didn't have a lot of free time, and, being
new, didn't know anybody to start off with. I did date occasionally,
but only out of necessity. There was too much to do right here and
now to find a bunch of new friends. So, I basically got adopted by my
neighbors.
They were a youngish couple, Mary was 28 and Will was 35, just
building up a new computer publishing business, and were starting to
become financially comfortable (middle class). She had some money
from an aunt someplace and they used it to buy and build their home on
the beach. It was far nicer than the glorified shack I lived in. Oh
yeah, the most important bit, they had two kids, Brenda and Vicky,
aged 9 and 7 respectively.
Mary was a plumping middle-aged mom who looked like she was great a
few years ago, but had let herself go a bit after the kids came
along. Red hair, green eyes, nice features, generous curves, but a
bit too heavy for my tastes. I found out later she'd put on the
weight after having to take some hormone pills for a while. It was
to my delight and constant frustration to see her slim back down over
the next two years, regaining her wonderful figure.
Will was seven years older than Mary, and they'd gotten married
shortly after she graduated from high school. He's a fit and trim
5'11" with sandy hair and hazel eyes and also looks good.
Their kids were wonderful - precocious, energetic, playful and smart.
They took after their parents. Just more so, as I found out later.
Enough introduction. Let me tell you about the first step on this
road I find myself on ... >
**********************************************************************
It was three days after moving into the beachhouse, late afternoon,
and I was sitting on the back porch soaking up some sun, enjoying a
nice cool glass of lemonade (the beer was still warm and I was
thirsty). Lying back on the lounger, eyes mostly closed, half asleep,
zonked from moving, work, and school, I was rather startled to hear a
voice coming from not far in front of me.
"Can I have some lemonade too, please?"
I opened my eyes to see this skinny little nine year old girl in a
bikini sitting on the railing of my balcony. Being the suave,
debonair world traveller that I am, I immediately grasped the
situation and came out with some witty comments. Yeah, right. I was
brain-fogged.
I looked at her and said "Who are you?"
"I'm Brenda."
"Oh."
After looking at each other for a few seconds, hoping my mind would
start working, she spoke again.
"You're new here. I'm your next door neighbour. Hi. I'm thirsty.
Could I have some lemonade please?"
It started to percolate through that this wasn't some sort of weird
dream. I was awake, and there was a little kid in front of me. Like
I said, brain-fogged.
"Uh, you live next door? Where's your folks?"
"Dad's working, and my mom and sister are at the beach. They won't be
back for a while yet. I can't get in the house 'cause mom has the
keys, and I'm thirsty."
"Oh. Right. Lemonade. Okay."
Well, like I said, I wasn't thinking too clearly, so I got up and went
into the kitchen to get her a glass. It was more of a surprise when I
turned around and found that she's followed me into the house. I
gave her the glass and ushered her back outside.
"You know, your folks wouldn't like it if they knew you were walking
into strange people's houses."
She looked at me real hard for a second. I felt like a bug under a
microscope.
"Why?"
I was finally waking up. I still couldn't come up with any kind of a
reply to this.
"'Cause you might take advantage of me?"
"Uh, well ..." More great conversation. This 9 year old had me
flummoxed.
"You wouldn't. You aren't the kinda guy who'd hurt kids like me. Mom
said so."
"Really? And how does your mom know that?"
She just sipped her drink and smiled at me a bit. She didn't answer
my question, just asked me another one of hers. This was getting
strange.
"Well, would you ever hurt me?"
Thinking carefully for a moment, I chose my words for a change.
"No, I guess your Mom is right. I don't hurt people, especially
children."
"Good. Mom said I could invite you for lunch tomorrow. What's your
name?"
"Richard. Lunch?"
"Rich or Richard?"
"Richard."
"Lunch tomorrow. If you're not busy."
Tomorrow was Saturday - no work, no school. I'd planned on either
unpacking everything or vegging out on the porch all day. Guess which
it would have been. She was eyeing me, waiting for an answer.
"Uh, I think I'd better hear that from your Mom before I say yes."
"Good! You'll come. Can I use your bathroom? I need to go pee."
"I guess. It's right beside the kitchen." She was off into the house
before I stood up. By the time I got to the door, she was in the
bathroom and had closed the door. Shaking my head, I sat back down to
wait. Ten minutes later I was getting a little worried, and was just
about to get up and check on my 'guest' when someone called for my
attention. A lady in her late twenties and a little girl were walking
up the path to my place.
"Hello. Have you seen Brenda? She said she'd be here."
Oh shit. "You must be her Mom."
"Yes. So she has been here."
"Hi Mom!" Brenda came out onto the porch, re-tying her bikini bottom.
It was an embarrassing scene. I knew nothing had happened, but the
implication that something might have been going on was there. I was
blushing.
"Hi dear."
Now for the really embarrassing part. She came up behind me and gave
me a big hug around the neck and a kiss on the cheek.
"Look what I found! Can I keep him?"
"Of course you may, if he doesn't object. But you'd better let go for
now, you're embarrassing the poor gentleman. Besides, you need to
introduce us."
"Okay. Mom, this is Richard. Richard, this is Mary, my Mom, and
Vicky, my sister."
Hello's were exchanged. Mine were a bit strangled because she hadn't
let go of my neck.
"So, is he coming for lunch tomorrow?" Mary was speaking to Brenda,
over my head, as though I weren't there.
"I think so. I think he's a bit shy though. He says he needs your
okay first."
"Tell him I said it's fine. Make sure he dresses properly, Grandma
will be there. See you in a while. Bye Richard."
She and the younger one, the seven year old, walked on up the path to
their place, leaving Brenda alone with me. Now, as far as I know,
this isn't normally what you'd expect from a mother or her daughter.
It certainly wasn't where I grew up, and I doubted it was normal even
here in California.
"Erg, could you let go, please? It's a little hard to breathe."
She let go and sat back up on the porch railing.
"So it's okay now. You're coming for lunch tomorrow. Mom says you
hafta dress nice, so wear long pants, good shoes, and a nice shirt.
No jeans. Come over at eleven. See ya!"
She jumped and ran, not waiting for any kind of answer. Not that I
had one, or could thing of any questions or objections either. This
is what the term 'railroaded' was invented to describe. They'd hit
me when I wasn't ready, kept me off balance, and had me where they
wanted me before I knew what was happening. This I figured out
later. At the time, I was just too stunned.
Guess where I ended up for lunch the next day.
**********************************************************************
< That was the start of it. I don't remember much about that lunch,
except for two things. Brenda treated me like her date, leading me by
the hand for introductions and a tour of the place, sitting beside me
during lunch, and walking me home afterwards. Somehow they also
talked me into having dinner there the following Saturday. >
< For the next few years, things went a little smoother. I guess
Brenda and her mom had a talk or something, or maybe she realized how
much she was embarrassing me, because she was rarely as forward as she
was those first two days. I was a frequent visitor over at their
place, either for lunch, dinner, cards, or just to socialize,
sometimes a half-dozen times a month. >
< Both kids were frequent visitors at my place as well, popping over
whenever they saw my back door open. I learned to close it whenever I
was going in for a shower or was changing, because they'd walk right
in without knocking. It scared the hell out of me the first time I
walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a small towel and saw
two faces grinning and staring at me over the back of the couch. >
< When I talked to Mary about it, nervous as hell and blushing, of
course, her answer was, to say the least, not what I expected. >
< "Richard, it's your house, so you make the rules. You can kick
them out if you like, or tell them not to come over, but I will not
tell them how to behave over there. That's up to you. As long as you
never hurt them, I'll be okay with whatever happens. They both like
you a lot and they both trust you, as do we." >
< Talk about ambiguous and open-ended. >
< Sometimes, when they couldn't get a sitter, Mary and Will would
leave the girls in my care overnight. This happened regularly,
usually once or twice a month, starting that fall. I'll tell you
about the first couple of times. It'll show you how they were slowly
wearing down my resistance, or scruples, or morals, or something.
Anyway ... >
**********************************************************************
The first time I babysat for the two girls was about three months
after I moved into the beachhouse. It was November, the weather was
unusually chilly with lots of wind, and my place was full of cold
drafts. Like I said before, the place is an old shack.
I guess it's about time I described these two 'little' girls for you,
before I carry on. It'll help you understand a bit better. Both
girls were young, still kids, showing no female development
whatsoever. They were skinny, with long legs, long arms, long necks,
nice tans, and both showed the potential for true beauty later in
life. Their eyes were a deep green, just like their mothers'.
Vicky (Victoria) is the younger of the pair by almost exactly two
years. Her birthday is at the end of March, her sister's is at the
beginning. She was then seven years old, about 4'8" tall (really tall
for her age, probably end up around 6'). Her hair was long, halfway
down her back, naturally wavy, and a rich, deep brown color. This was
the lady of the pair, usually prim and proper, dressed nicely, rarely
dirty or dishevelled. Behind the outer shell, though, was a daring
and mischievous mind, always looking for something new or interesting.
Brenda was the same height as her sister, despite the two years head
start, and would soon be passed. She was nine, and had the most
gorgeous head of strawberry blonde hair I've ever seen. It was cut
short, barely shoulder length, and was just as wavy as her sister's.
This one was the tomboy. Almost nothing stopped her from doing
whatever she wanted whenever she wanted to. The main difference
between her and her sister was that she didn't hide any of her daring
or impish curiosity behind a mask. It was all in the open. She had
both a temper and an extreme stubborn streak. Get her mad at you for
something and she'd stay mad for a week.
Did I mention before that they were both highly intelligent,
precocious, daring, fearless, and had a set of morals that were mostly
alien to mine? More on that later - for now, back to babysitting.
I wasn't too nervous about this because they were at my place a lot
anyway. Since that first day, I had always treated both of them like
small adults, talking with them rather than at them, never ignoring
them, and always listening and being fair. It showed, because they
also treated me fairly, as an adult and an equal. They were still
kids, though, and respected my knowledge and authority. Usually.
Mary dropped them off at three, giving me some emergency numbers and
last minute instructions on bedtimes. Being Saturday, these were
flexible. They expected to be back the following afternoon. The
girls had their backpacks, nighties, a change of clothes each, and
some toys, games, and books to keep them amused. Oh, if you're
wondering, this wasn't a paid thing. It was a favour for friends.
We watched a little TV, played a little, Brenda wrestled with me on
the couch (I lost), then had dinner. Corn on the cob, 'burgers, and
salad made a good meal, I thought. Jello for the girls for dessert.
Later in the evening, after some TV, they wanted me to read them some
more out of their latest book. It was something they'd started me on
early. About once a week, we'd sit together on the couch and I would
read them a chapter or two. They thought it was great, and I didn't
mind. It was fun having them around for company. And besides, it was
expanding my mind and my vocabulary.
Now, if I haven't mentioned it before (yeah, right, a dozen times
already), these girls were intelligent and precocious. Books, to
them, meant one thing - great stories and tales of adventure, magic,
and mayhem. You're thinking sleeping beauty, little red riding hood,
beauty and the beast. Not for these two. Lord of the Rings, Beowulf,
The Iliad, Drangonriders, The Malloreon, Discworld, this was the kids'
reading material. Their favorite authors were (and still are)
Aspirin, Hawke, and Pratchett. At that age, I hadn't even started
reading Enid Blyton.
I let them stay up a little later than their normal, then sent them
to bed. They were supposed to sleep in my spare bedroom. That lasted
until five minutes after I got to bed.
"It's cold." "I'm scared!" "I'm lonely." "I miss Mom and Dad."
"Can we sleep with you?" "Mom and Dad let us." "This house makes
funny noises." "Why is it so dark in here?"
You get the idea. I didn't think their parents would really
appreciate me sleeping with the two girls. Call it a bit of
prudishness on my part, but even if nothing happened, and nothing
would, just the thought of sleeping with them made me nervous. I sent
them back to their own bed. About a half-hour later I was awake
again, a thump in the hall bringing me to full alert status.
Burglars? Nah, had to be the girls. I pulled on my sweats and went
to find out.
Vicky was sitting in the hall, a blanket wrapped around her, leaning
against the wall. "I'm scared."
"Where's your sister?"
"Downstairs"
"All right you, back to bed."
"I can't sleep in there. It's too scary."
I left her there and went to find her sister. She was downstairs,
sitting in a chair, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the TV. The
sound was turned off so I wouldn't hear it.
"Well? Why aren't you in bed?"
"It's too cold and lonely. Vicky won't stay in there, so I came down
here."
I knew what was happening, of course, and so did the girls.
"Brenda, what would your mother say if she found out you ended up in
my bed?"
"Nothing. She would be mad if she knew you made us sleep by ourselves
when we're cold, lonely and scared, though."
Sighing, exasperated, knowing I'd already lost this one, I gave in.
She was probably right about her mother, too. "All right, I give up.
You win." She was running up the stairs before I finished talking.
I ended up with one girl curled up in either arm, covers pulled up to
our chins. I'm really glad their mother makes them wear full nighties
to bed. I left my sweat pants on.
Waking up with the two girls in my bed was an adventure in
embarrassment. They were still in my arms, Vicky facing me with her
head on my chest, one hand on my stomach, with my arm around her waist
and my hand resting on her hip. Brenda was facing away from me, butt
pushed into my thigh, with my other arm wrapped around her and that
hand being held by her on her chest. I could feel one of her nipples
pressing into my palm.
They were both still asleep, so I tried to slither out of there. All
this did was make things worse. When I tried to move my hand off
Brenda's chest, she grabbed it tighter, with both hands, and pulled me
back. I moved my hand off Vicky's hip and onto her waist. This made
her wiggle around, and she ended up with one leg over top of mine and
her crotch pressing into my hip. All I could do was lie back and try
to sleep. These warm bodies did feel nice, though, even being kids.
I did doze off again, and woke up when the girls started squirming.
"Just getting comfy" was the only muttered response I got when I asked
if they were awake. Yeah, getting comfy with my legs, arms, chest and
stomach. Hands and legs everywhere before they settled down to sleep
again. I was quickly getting used to this, though, and again nodded
off.
When the two of them finally woke up for real, I received a peck on
the cheek from each, a thank you, and a good morning. The rest of the
day was more normal.
A few days later, when I talked to Mary about what happened, her
response was again a surprise. Not as big as the last one, because I
was starting to know her, but still a surprise.
"Yes, I know. Did anything happen? Did you hurt either of them?
Were they unhappy? No? Then what's the problem? Like I said before,
it's your place. You control what happens over there. If you let
them sleep with you, fine. It was their choice too, remember."
Needless to say, next time I babysat, the two of them didn't even make
a pretense of going into the spare room. They waltzed up the stairs
and dropped their packs in my room, cool as anything.
**********************************************************************
< Somehow the years did slip by. For birthdays and Christmas I'd give
them things that would be special for them, rather than the usual
t-shirts or CD's or stuff like that. I gave Vicky a signed copy of
Neuromancer for her tenth birthday. She showed it off to everybody
for months. For Brenda's eleventh, I gave her a framed print of
Michael Whelan's White Dragon. It's been hanging in her room ever
since. Hey, I'd never heard of this stuff before, but it made the
girls very happy. >
< I didn't neglect things on the home front, either. I made regular
visits or calls home to talk with and gossip about family and friends.
The folks were fine, and my sisters were doing okay. I tried hard to
keep in touch with Caitlin, my baby sis, because I was always the one
she'd turn to for help or comfort when I was home. I did miss her. >
< By the time I was ready to graduate, my neighbours seemed more like
family to me than my own folks. Once I had my degree, and finished
some post-grad courses I wanted to take, it would be time to move on
in my life - start a career, get a social life again, find a good
woman, etcetera etcetera. Maybe it was my vague ramblings on doing
these things that made her strike earlier than she'd planned, suddenly
realizing that I wouldn't be there forever. She hasn't told me the
full truth yet, and may never tell me. >
< She started in on me just after finals were finished ... >
**********************************************************************
I got back from work early on a Friday, putting in extra time now that
my school workload was slowing down. It was now late April, so
the weather was turning nice, and this had turned into a gorgeous
sunny day. I changed into shorts and a t-shirt, grabbed a soda, and
went to the back porch to stretch out and relax a bit.
Brenda was already there, sitting in a lounger, knees tucked under her
chin, arms wrapped around her calves. She was staring out over the
ocean. I could tell she'd been crying.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothin'"
"Riiiiiight. I'll be sitting here when you're ready to talk." I'd
seen this too often to try and push her. Let her come to me if and
when she was ready to unburden herself. If she didn't want to talk to
me, she wouldn't be here. It did take a while. I was working on my
second cola before she spoke up.
"Richard, when you're finished school, you're gonna move away, aren't
you?"
All right, what gives? It's not the usual school/sister/boyfriend
problem that I'm used to. At least, not the kind I was used to when
dealing with my sister.
"Probably. I'll be starting a new job somewhere, maybe in another
city. Don't worry, I won't forget you. You're like family to me."
She sat there for a while longer, staring at the sea.
"No, I didn't think you'd understand."
Before I could respond, she got up, walked over, and kissed me - a
full French kiss right on the lips. Now THAT got my attention. She
kissed good for a kid. Hell, that was a good kiss from anyone.
Without another word, she walked off the porch and over to her place.
I watched her go, staring at her, too surprised to say anything.
I guess I should describe her again, both for your sake and mine.
That kiss was a sort-of revelation for me, making me take a good
look. She was no longer a little girl at thirteen years of age. Now
she was a young lady, with many of her womanly charms developing.
There was a definite figure there now, with nice breasts, slim waist,
noticeable hips, nicely rounded ass, tapering thighs, and legs that
went on into next week. Her hair was still that rich strawberry
blonde, a little darker now at the start of spring, and her eyes were
the same luminous green, large and expressive. The rest had developed
from little-girl to young-woman, including a wide, full-lipped,
expressive mouth. I now knew from first-hand experience how soft and
tender those lips were, too.
She wasn't a kid anymore. She was a beautiful young lady. I hadn't
paid attention to the changes, even when babysitting. I'd gotten so
used to having them sleep with me when they were over, I never noticed
the extra padding on the chest, the graceful curves, the rounding of
her bottom. Not even when my hand was holding her breast, as I then
remembered from the previous week. They still slept the same way when
with me, Vicky in one arm, facing me, with my arm wrapped around her
and my hand on her hip, and Brenda facing away from me, holding my
hand to her chest.
Am I a prime idiot, or what. Is there any other male out there who
wouldn't have noticed holding on to a beautifully shaped breast on a
very pretty thirteen year old?
Thinking about it, Vicky wasn't a little kid either. She was two
years behind Brenda in age, but not nearly that far behind in
development. A bikini now had something to hide, or show off if you
will. Her breasts were thickening pads behind her nipples, waist
becoming defined, baby fat disappearing, hips widening, bottom
starting to round out. She was now about 5'3", while her sister was
5'2".
I wasn't going to be sleeping with them while babysitting anymore, I
decided. That decision turned out to be academic anyway.
She was back again the next morning, around ten. No hello, no knock,
just suddenly there on the porch, staring out over the ocean. Now, I
know I'm not the greatest conversationalist in the world, but usually
when you say 'hello' you get some sort of response. Not that day.
Time to wait it out again. I carried on, doing a little housework,
some light reading, and writing up notes for work.
I made lunch for two, and we ate it in silence on the porch.
In the afternoon, Vicky came over for a while. She was her usual
cheerful self despite Brenda's mood. I took her into the kitchen and
asked what was wrong with her sister. Her answer? "You, silly!"
When I pressed her on this, wanting to get some real answers, she just
shut up or played dumb.
Vicky went home for dinner, but Brenda stayed on the porch. I made
dinner for two, and we ate that in silence as well.
Time to ask her mom for help. I found Mary in her kitchen, cleaning
up after their dinner. Giving a hand, I asked what was wrong with her
daughter.
"Brenda? Nothing is wrong with her at all. It's her boyfriend that
has the problem."
"Boyfriend?" That was news to me. I didn't know she had a boyfriend.
Neither the girls nor their parents had mentioned anything about a
boyfriend.
"Yes. She's been seeing him for a while, but he seems totally
uninterested. It's very frustrating for her. She's got something up
her sleeve, though, so I'd be careful around her for a while."
She had a boyfriend. Brenda had a boyfriend. One that I didn't know
about. Someone stupid enough not to be interested in her. Why did
that news get me so, well, mad and jealous?
There was no sign of her at my place. I imagined her going to see her
boyfriend. It took me a long time to get to sleep that night,
wondering about Brenda and her boyfriend, and what they did together.
Sunday morning she was there again, sitting in the back. This time
Brenda was wearing a Bikini and sunning herself. I thought it was
better than her just being wrapped up in a ball like the last couple
of days. Communication lines were still down, even when I asked if
she wanted to talk about her boyfriend. It was starting to worry me.
Believe it or not, I did care a lot about this young lady. It hurt me
seeing her like that, especially since it seemed she was taking out
her social problems on me.
Being ignored was starting to get to me too, even though I tried not
to show it.
I carried on with my chores and work, occasionally going out to sit
with her for a few minutes. After my revelations the other day about
her growing up, it was impossible to ignore her in that bikini,
especially when she was on her stomach with that ass of hers exposed
to view (guess what my favorite bit of female anatomy is). Each time
I came back in, I had to adjust my cock into a more comfortable
position. It's bloody awful when someone you've basically regarded as
asexual (I don't fancy kids as sexual, personally) suddenly turns into
a cock-hardening piece of jailbait without you noticing. She IS
supposed to be like a sister or a cousin or something, right?
Lunch for two was again silent.
Later in the afternoon, it started clouding over and getting chilly.
She showed no sign of moving, and it was obvious that she was getting
cold. Well, I'm the one that's supposed to know better, so I brought
her inside, wrapped her in a quilt, sat her on the couch, and made her
some cocoa. No verbal response, but I did get a smile. That was
something I hadn't seen for days and it made me feel a lot better.
Vicky came over after supper (I cooked for two again, if you hadn't
guessed) hoping for a reading session. Sure, why not.
I fetched drinks - soda's for the girls and beer for me - picked up
their book, and relaxed into my recliner. Readings generally lasted a
half hour to an hour, depending on moods and the storyline. Two
minutes into things, Brenda got off the couch and crawled up into my
lap, quilt and all. The only two words I got from her for three days
were "I'm cold".
Well, I wasn't very successful at not getting erect with that girl's
bottom in my lap and her breasts resting on my chest. There's no way
she could miss it, since it was running along her ass-crack, but she
didn't move, say anything, or even blink. I could feel her nipples
through her bikini and my shirt. She certainly didn't feel cold. Her
head was resting, quite comfortably I might add, on my left shoulder
just below my jaw line. Don't get me wrong, I did enjoy the feel of
her body, it was just my scruples getting in the way. This was still
a thirteen year old woman-child in my lap, despite what my body and my
lewd imagination were saying. Somehow my emotions were also
conspiring against me. Her little sigh of contentment left me flushed
with a warm all-over glow.
After the reading was over, the two of them headed home. One thing
she left me with, something which really confused me, was a big, warm,
wet, kiss, just as she was getting up to go. Speechless, I watched
that bikini-clad bottom of hers walk out the door and down the path.
Emotions and feelings I didn't know I had came out. Sadness at seeing
her leave, loneliness when she disappeared, and some jealousy and
anger over her boyfriend. I thought that if I ever met that jackass,
I'd straighten him out. Damned idiot, ignoring a girl - no, a woman,
like Brenda. Dipstick didn't know a good thing when he saw it.
The other thing she left me with was a raging hard-on, the one that
she'd been sitting on for the last hour. I wonder if she had any idea
how bad off she left me.
Monday I had no classes and no work, so I did shopping, laundry,
housework, yard maintenance, studying, and some design work. She
showed up at four, curling up on the couch under the quilt, staring
out the window. It was a change - she was in the house. It was still
chilly out there. Dinner for two and an evening of TV. She went home
at eight.
Tuesday I had classes and an afternoon of work, returning home after
seven. She was on the porch, shivering. I asked if she'd eaten, and
she shook her head no. I carried her inside, wrapped her up, gave her
some cocoa, cooked her dinner (I'd already eaten), then asked what the
hell she was doing. No answer. What a surprise. I sent her home.
Wednesday I had work in the morning and early afternoon. This time
I made sure I was home before four. She showed up right on time
again. Same spot on the couch, dinner for two, some TV, and back home
at eight.
Thursday she was there at four, once again punctual. I went over to
talk to Mary about her daughter, leaving Brenda alone.
"She's spent an entire week over at my place. Haven't you noticed?"
"Of course we have. It's just that she can work out her boyfriend
problem a lot easier away from us, and your place is like her second
home."
"How can she work it out? She doesn't say anything! All she does is
stare at the ocean or the sky or the TV! I haven't had more than two
words out of her all week! There must be something seriously wrong
here."
"Richard, my daughter is hurting really bad right now. She is trying
very hard to work out what is to her an extremely difficult situation.
I can do nothing to help her, nor can her father or her sister. For
the first time in her life she has a problem that only she can deal
with."
"Surely to god there's something somebody can do? Maybe go out and
have an, er, friendly chat with this boyfriend?"
"No, that wouldn't work either. We've talked things over here, and
doing that would only make the situation worse. I really wish there
was something we could do."
"So you're just going to let her live at my place until she's solved
her problem?"
"That's your choice. It's your place, you make the rules. If you
don't think she should be there, you can always tell her to leave."
Talk about unsatisfactory. No answers, no solution, no clues as to
how to get into Brenda's head. Frustrated and uneasy I went back
home.
Dinner for two again. If this went on, I'd need more provisions, and
I thought about getting a better variety of food. Cooking for one
leads to a rather uninteresting, almost monotonous set of staples.
After some work and some TV, I sent her home at eight.
Friday, four o'clock, no Brenda. Five o'clock, no Brenda. Six
o'clock, ditto. I dropped in at their place to socialize for a
while. No Brenda. I went home again, watched some TV, and went to
bed. I was lonely.
Saturday was a gorgeous, warm, sunny spring day. For some reason, it
was even more perfect when I noticed Brenda sunning herself out in the
back again, in her bikini. I called out a good morning, just to let
her know I noticed. After cooking lunch for two, I went out shopping,
leaving the back door open for her, returning just before suppertime
to find she'd come inside, curled up under the quilt and fallen
asleep. She looked so innocent, so vulnerable, and yes, so beautiful,
it was hard to keep from picking her up just to hold her in my arms.
I swore that if I ever met that jerk of a boyfriend, he would regret
every moment of pain he caused this woman-child.
She woke up while I was cooking dinner. After eating, as we sat to
watch TV, she snuggled up to my side, still under the quilt. I put my
arm around her, feeling quite protective that evening. She felt good,
even though I was *very* careful about where my hand was. That bikini
left a lot of bare skin. When I went to bed, I was still muttering
half-formed threats against that boyfriend of hers.
Sunday, same routine, except that after dinner Vicky came over for a
reading session. I then realized I hadn't seen her all week. I guess
Brenda was just too depressing to be around. Funny that I seemed to
be happier with her there, even with her not saying anything. Yes,
she curled up in my lap again, gave me a big sloppy kiss, and left me
with another aching boner. I was still happy. Horny as hell, but
happy.
She was over again Monday.
Tuesday I worked late, returning home at seven. Once again, she was
out on the porch, shivering. I called her a bloomin' idiot and a
numbskull and several other G-rated versions of the same thing,
carried her inside, warmed her up, fed her, and told her that no
stupid jackass of a boyfriend was worth going through this shit for.
Wednesday I told her I had a date Thursday and wouldn't be home until
late. She just looked at me for a few seconds, then looked away. It
was impossible for me to miss that brief stab of pain in her eyes.
Later, lying in bed, I tried to figure out why it hurt her to know I
was going out on a date, and why I felt so bad about it.
Thursday. My date was okay, she was a nice lady I'd met in school,
and we'd dated several times before. She knew me fairly well, and
commented that I seemed distracted all night. I told her it was a
problem at work that kept popping up in my mind, and I apologized for
being such a drag. There's no way I could tell her that I was worried
about Brenda.
Friday. No Brenda. I went over to socialize for a while, and found
out she was on a date with some guy from her school. Not her
boyfriend. Okay, I can handle that, can't I? Maybe she's trying to
make her boyfriend jealous.
Saturday. No Brenda.
Sunday. No Brenda. I asked Mary if she was getting over her
boyfriend problem.
"I don't think so. This is the third day in a row she's had a date,
and each time she's been with a different guy. I don't know what her
boyfriend did, but she's apparently trying to make him jealous or get
even with him for something. I have tried to talk to her about it,
but with no success."
"What the hell does she think she's doing? Is this boyfriend of hers
worth it?"
"She thinks so. I'm not so sure. He's a nice enough guy, but in some
ways he is such an idiot. I just hope he realizes what's happening
before Brenda really gets hurt."
Vicky came over for a while later that afternoon, just to talk and get
away from home. I asked her about her sister.
"She's mad at her boyfriend. No, she didn't say why. Her boyfriend?
I kinda like the guy. Her dates? Jerks, all of them. Why? I think
she's lookin' for trouble. Mom thinks so too. Dad's stayin' out of
it, 'cause mom knows lots more about my sister's problem."
I don't know about Brenda's boyfriend, but she was certainly getting
me upset. And jealous. And worried.
Monday she was there. After dinner I tried to talk to her, to get her
to say something to me. I talked, begged, pleaded, yelled, and
shouted. I wasted my breath. Exasperated and drained, I sat on the
couch with her to watch some TV. She snuggled up to my side again and
I put my arm around her. The world was a good place again.
"Brenda, I'm working late again tomorrow night. Please try not to be
a blithering idiot again by waiting here for me because I don't know
what time I'll be home." No response. We just watched the tube for a
while.
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
Huh? What? I was watching a show when she said something and totally
missed it. "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention. What did you say?"
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
Do I? My mind ran through all the ladies I'd dated for the last year,
whether they ended up as bedmates or not.
"No, I don't have a girlfriend. I have some ladyfriends that I go out
on dates with, but no steady. Why do you ask?"
No answer. I did get a kiss before she went home that night, though.
It left me stiff as a board, but what the hell. It felt good. Her
question left me wondering what the hell she was up to.
Tuesday I got home at eleven. No sign that Brenda had been there.
Good.
Wednesday, no Brenda. I did get a call from home, one that meant some
changes were approaching. My baby sister was coming out early to stay
with me. We had planned on her coming out in late August, but now she
was going to be here in early may. Less than two weeks. Somehow
she'd managed to finish high school early, and wanted to spend the
summer here rather than at home. So she'd be here a few months
earlier than planned. That would give her some time to get used to
the city before going to college, since she'd already been accepted
into the same U. I was attending. Now, I know there's something more
to this because of the way my sister was trying to sound so easy going
and convincing. It was simpler to shelve my suspicions for later than
to worm it out of her over the 'phone. I looked forward to seeing her
again, even if it was because of some unvoiced problems.
Thursday. No Brenda
Friday I went over to talk to Mary before school was out.
"Yes, she's been out on dates for the last two days. Two more new
boys. I don't like either one of them."
"Vicky says that her dates have all been jerks."
"That could be. I've only met a few of them, so couldn't comment on
them all, but those few I don't like very much."
"Why do you let her go out then? She's going to get into trouble with
one of them eventually."
"Brenda is trying to sort out her problems with that boyfriend. I
think she's waiting for him to make her stop. I don't know if that's
going to work though, because she's playing dangerously. If it keeps
going like this, there will be trouble sooner rather than later."
"That's what I mean! One of those kids won't take no for an answer.
I'm sure of it. Doesn't that bother you?"
"Of course it does! She'll be losing her virginity to some creep
rather than to someone she loves! Do you think I'm that stupid that I
can't see what kind of dynamite she's playing with? If that boyfriend
of hers doesn't smarten up soon, I'll get Will to use a baseball bat
on him! Maybe then he'll understand what he's doing to my daughter!"
"That's something I've been thinking of doing myself for a week
already. I just wish I knew who he was."
"That would only make things worse, and you know it. She is the only
one who can really solve this problem."
"When she gets home, please send her over. I'm going to try and talk
some sense into that thick skull of hers, even if she won't say a
damned word to me."
She showed up at four. We had dinner, then we cuddled in front of the
TV. After a few caresses, I tried to talk to her.
"Why are you going out with all these jerks?" No answer. "All you
are going to do is get yourself into trouble. Nobody is worth the
problems you could cause yourself." No response. "Please, Brenda,
don't do this to yourself. Think of your family." Nothing.
"Please. You're hurting your mother, your father, your sister." She
just sat there with her eyes on the tube. "All right. For my sake
then. I just couldn't stand the thought of you being hurt by one of
those guys."
After talking a bit longer, still being totally ignored, I wound down.
It took a while but she did say something.
"All right."
Huh? An answer? A positive one yet?
"You mean you won't go out with those creeps anymore?"
"I won't go out on any more dates with those guys."
"What made you change your mind?"
No answer. No more answers for the rest of the evening. As she left,
I kissed her for a change. She smiled. I still couldn't figure out
what I said to change her mind about those creeps she was going out
with. It was something to puzzle over.
Saturday it rained. She and Vicky were both over for most of the
day. They both sat on the couch, reading, watching some TV, and
staring out the window. At least Vicky would still talk to me, so we
jawed about her school, the kids she knew, my work and school, her
parents, and my family. I cooked them lunch, then supper. We had
cocoa and popcorn in front of the TV later, and Brenda sat in my lap
until they went home. One thing about having her over regularly, my
beer consumption was way down.
Sunday was similar to Saturday, except they both went home for
dinner. It was lonely, cooking for myself again.
**********************************************************************
< So far, so normal. Things were getting odd, but nothing truly
bizarre or weird was happening. Brenda was having a lot of trouble
dealing with her boyfriend problem, and was dealing with it in a way I
didn't understand, but I could handle it. I thought I could handle
it. >
**********************************************************************
<<End of chapter 1>>
Next chapter - End of her conquest, a decision, their first evening
(Well, do you think Richard will ever wise up? You and I both
know that he's as dense as a fencepost. Maybe he'll realize it too,
before it's too late. Not much sex so far - well, none actually - but
this is a rather long story. There's more than enough later, and some
plot twists you wouldn't expect.)
Author's note:
Enid Blyton is a well-known author of many dozen mystery books for
pre-teen and early teen children. The other authors and books
mentioned are real.
Subject: BOMBADIL: "Brenda - A Love Story" 2/9
From: S THOMAS BUSH <stbush@iglou.com>
Date: 14 Apr 1997 19:13:15 GMT
--------
Brenda - A Love Story [ M/f f/f ]
by Tom Bombadil (c) Aug 1996
Chapter 2 of 9
Disclaimer: All the standard rules apply. If you are offended
by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is
illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are
under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you
might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and remove this
text from your computer.
This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions
described by me coming straight out of my imagination. As a work of
fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities or
actions described, nor does it relate to any type of real events in
my life, or known to me in the lives of any of my friends or
relatives.
You've been warned.
In this chapter - End of her conquest, a decision, our first evening
**********************************************************************
< Here's where the results of their machinations finally showed up.
Something I never would have believed myself capable of years ago.
Something I still have trouble believing happened to me. Something
that I actively participated in. I still don't know what was going on
in my head at that time. Not that it really matters much, now. >
**********************************************************************
Monday she was back again. After dinner, when we were snuggling in
front of the TV, I asked her a question that had been bothering me for
a while. I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer.
"Brenda, why are you here at my place all the time? Your mother says
it's because you're working out a problem with your boyfriend.
Shouldn't you be with him instead?"
She turned and looked at me with those big beautiful green eyes of
hers. After a minute of staring, she kissed me, then turned back to
the TV.
I admit that I can be pretty dense. Sometimes things that are
obvious to others just pass me by. Hints may have to be less than
subtle. I do, however, notice it when someone hits me with a baseball
bat. That's what it felt like. A nice 32 ouncer right across the
back of my skull. I was the jerk, the bastard, that horse's behind.
Just to confirm my idiocy, I had to ask.
"I'm the boyfriend everyone's been talking about, aren't I?"
"Yes"
A simple answer, said so calmly and so easily she could have been
saying yes to having a soda. Like the class A-1 jerk I am, I opened
my mouth before thinking things through.
"Brenda, I can't be your boyfriend. I'm far too old for you!"
Here I am, cuddled up with her under a quilt, alone with her in my
place for the umpteenth time, watching TV, my arm around her, touching
and occasionally kissing, suddenly realizing what was going on. Like
I said. Dense. She had an answer for that. Or rather, she had a
question.
"Do you love me?"
I opened my mouth, ready with another quick answer, then shut it
before I made things worse. Besides, the more I thought it through,
the less sure I was of my answer. I did love her, but in what way?
I had no reply to give, so this time I kept silent. The thing that
surprised me was that we stayed snuggled together until it was time
for her to go home. She never moved away from me, and I never moved
my arm or myself away from her. We kissed again as she left.
Sleep only came to me early in the morning. It was haunted by
unremembered dreams.
Tuesday I re-arranged my work schedule so I could talk with Mary in
the afternoon before Brenda got home from school. It was a memorable
conversation.
"Mary, Brenda asked me a question yesterday and I don't know what kind
of an answer I can give her."
"Let me guess. First, you figured out who her boyfriend is, right?"
"I - Uh, yes."
"Then she asked you the big question. We talked about it last night."
"What am I supposed to say to her?"
"The truth, when you figure that out."
"Come off it. She's almost young enough to be my daughter. I can't
be her boyfriend. There's no way it could ever work out."
She *was* almost young enough to be my daughter. If I'd been really
unlucky my first time, I could have had a kid about twelve years old
at that point.
"Let's try something different before you say something you'll regret.
I'll ask you a few questions, and for each honest answer I'll give you
something in return. These will be difficult, so think before you
reply. Nothing you say will be repeated to anyone, either."
It wasn't what I expected. Then again, I had no idea how she'd react
in the first place. But this?
"How old were you when you first had sex?"
Instant panic. Then the automatic reflexes kicked in. "Sixteen."
"Richard, I said honest answers. That means the truth. Otherwise
leave."
Honest answers. This was important. Was I that transparent?
"You have to promise first that *nothing* I say here will ever be
repeated."
"You have my solemn word."
"I was twelve. Don't ask who with, because I'll never tell anyone
that."
(And before you dirty-minded pervs out there get any ideas, no it
wasn't with either of my sisters or my mother or my aunt.)
"The first time is supposed to be a wonderful experience. Did you
enjoy it?"
"No. Neither one of us had the slightest idea of what to do, so it
was messy, painful for her, upsetting to me, and downright scary
seeing all that blood. We never ever tried that again, at least with
each other."
"Yours was a little worse than average, but not by all that much. My
first time was when I was eleven. He was eighteen, and we both loved
every second of the event, even the brief pain when I lost my cherry."
"What sick bastard would fuck an eleven year old?"
She grabbed a beer from the fridge and put it in front of me.
"Here. You'll need that to wash the taste of foot from your mouth.
It was Will, my husband."
I shut my mouth, then had a quick couple of slugs. This was a shock.
It was difficult to picture Will as a pedophile.
"You see, I chose him to be my first because I wanted it to be
special. He was smart, good-looking, charming, and a really nice
person. It took a lot of convincing on my part to get him to 'take
advantage' of me. I don't thing he realized back then how things
would turn out. My mother never suspected a thing until I was
seventeen and I picked him to be my date at the junior prom."
"So you're saying that you approve of anything that happens between
us. Is that it?"
"I'll answer that with another question. How many of Brenda's
classmates do you think are still virgins?"
"What's that got to do with anything!?"
"Answer the question."
"I have no idea. All? Most of them?"
"Just over half. The others have already started in on their sex
lives, whether as a one-time thing or on a regular basis. By this
time next year, you'd be lucky to find half a dozen virgins in that
class. What I'm saying is that Brenda has made it clear that she will
be active soon, with or without you. She chose you years ago, but
you've been so thick-headed that you've never noticed. Then you drop
hints about moving away. What do you think that's doing to her?"
Now I'm trying to picture it from her point of view, and I realize
that I can't. She's probably spent more time at my place than
anywhere outside of home or school. We've done things together that
require a great deal of trust and faith in each other. Hell, she's
been occasionally sharing my bed. I thought I knew her. Trust, yes.
Faith, yes. Love?
"Mary, what is it she's looking for from me? I need to know."
"You have to ask her that. Once you start asking the right questions,
she'll start talking to you again."
"How long have you been in on this conspiracy?"
"For half a year. That's when she became serious about you. Before
that, it was just an infatuation, and we ignored it. Since then,
Brenda, Will, and I have had quite a few arguments, but she has her
mind made up. If we say no, she's made it clear that her second
choice is either the football team or the baseball team. I *thought*
she was joking, but she didn't smile or laugh when she said that.
Brenda gave us a choice, and we would rather she have her chance with
you than do something stupid in retaliation."
It took a few seconds for me to absorb that shock.
"Is there anything else I should know?"
"Only this. I love my daughter, and I do not want to see her get
hurt. Make certain that you can live with your choices, whatever
they are."
She was over at four, as usual. I was getting good at this cooking
for two business, since I was getting so much practice. The quality
of the food and the cooking had gone up considerably over the
course of those two weeks.
After dinner, we cuddled again, adding in some more caressing and
kissing, this time watching the sunset.
It was time for some honest answers, I hoped.
"Why did you choose me?"
She looked at me, looked back at the sunset, and sighed.
"You are a really nice guy. You are handsome, intelligent, willing to
learn, and you can think. For me, you've always been a person, not
just another adult. You treated me nice, paid attention to me, bought
me things that were special just for me, and you said you'd never hurt
me. You never have. Lots of times you could have taken advantage of
me, teased me, sent me home for teasing you, or tattled when Vicky and
I fought, but you never did. I fell in love with you. That's why I
chose you."
All right, what was I supposed to say. She just bared her soul, and
I didn't know if it was within me to give her what she wanted.
"What are you looking for from me?"
"Love. The real kind. I think you love me, but I don't know for
sure. I guess it's 'cause you don't know either. I'm waiting for you
to figure that out."
I guess I asked the right question. Could I handle the answer? It
definitely needed a lot of thought. One thing I did notice - over the
past two weeks it had changed from her showing up and sometimes
snuggling up to me to *us* cuddling, caressing, and kissing. There
had never been a full-time lady in my life (except the Aussie, but we
both knew that would end) and sitting there, sharing time with Brenda,
did feel awfully nice. But did I love her like she was the love of my
life? Once again, I had no answer to give.
Wednesday, when we were cuddling, I asked one more question.
"Brenda, if I did leave, what would you do?"
I could feel the tension and shock roll through her body.
"Richard, if you left me, I would be heartbroken for a long time.
Eventually I would get over it, of course, and try to find someone
else. It would never be the same as with you, but I would probably
find a man I could care for. He wouldn't be as good for me as you
are, but if that's what you decide, then I have no choice."
"I haven't decided yet. I wanted to hear from you what might happen.
It helps to know you wouldn't do something really foolish."
Later that night, I tried to picture someone else sitting beside me
on the couch, someone besides Brenda. Anyone else. I went through
my batch of possible dates, the ladies in college, the ones I met
overseas, even the girls from high school. It wasn't difficult to
picture sitting and cuddling with most of them, but it was impossible
to imagine sitting there and getting the same feelings of togetherness
and belonging. Only one came close, and that was Nadine, the woman
from Australia. Of course, that may have been leftover lust. She was
still the best bedmate I'd ever had.
That didn't do much good.
Thursday at lunchtime I got some help making up my mind. It was a
question I asked of one of our customers. We were treating them to
lunch, and things had already moved from pleasantries through business
and into general talk. Jerry, the customer's head guy, was going
through his fourth divorce. I asked him if he'd ever found the
perfect woman.
"Once, a very long time ago, I did. She was beautiful, intelligent,
cuddlesome, and a lot of fun to be with. I was young and foolish, too
full of myself. There were lots of chicks around. I took her for
granted, took too long to pop the question, so she found someone
else. It was only after she left that I realized how much I loved
her. I've been looking for someone like her for the last thirty
years. If you have a chance like that, don't pass it up."
"How did you finally figure out that you loved her?"
"That's an easy question for me now. The answer simply came too late
to help. Just picture that special person in your mind, in a time and
place where you both were happy together. Now imagine spending the
entire rest of your life without her. If you can do that with a
steady heart, you're not in love. If the thought makes you ill, then
you may be in love. The worse you feel, the more likely you love the
lady. I've never been in love since, but I keep looking, obviously
without any luck."
Later that evening, when Brenda and I were cuddling, I tried out his
suggestion. It was easy to imagine us sitting here watching the
sunset, because that's what we were doing. Pushing forward ten years,
then twenty, I removed her from the picture. I took out her form,
her smile, her eyes and hair, her unique smell, that fantastic ass,
her voice and laugh, the arguments and teasing, her temper, all the
books and readings, our kisses and cuddles, watching her in the
sunshine, seeing her sleeping, having her run all over the place, the
way we slept together, her face when she unwrapped a special present,
how she made me feel when we were together like that, everything.
Just imagining it left such a big hole in my heart I started to cry.
Brenda waited for my to finish, not saying a word. It was a quick
recovery, since I could still hold and cuddle her. We kissed.
"Brenda, I love you. For now and for always. As long as you want me,
I'm yours."
"It's about damned time you figured that out! I've been waiting a
year already! Now let's kiss for real!"
So much for my idyllic romantic scene. I needed to adjust my imagined
'love moments', modifying them to match the spirit and temperament,
never mind the impatience, of a thirteen year old girl.
There is something to be said for enthusiasm. Her kissing technique
needed a little work, but she was good and would get better. It was
definitely a lot of fun, especially when she was squirming on my lap.
I hoped I would never regret that choice. She went home at eight,
promising that the next day, being Friday, we'd start getting
serious. Talk about a suggestive statement!
**********************************************************************
< Well? How would you have fared against this lady? Any better than
me? Or am I the only weak-willed person on the planet, the only one
who could have been captivated by this young vixen? >
< Something I always wondered about is what would have happened if she
had been less adamant about capturing me, or if one of those other
dates had gotten to her first. Where would we each be now? Would I
have found someone to love like I love her? Somehow I doubt it. >
< First, I'll tell you about the great time we had on Friday. I'll
save Saturday and all the surprises for later. >
**********************************************************************
Friday was very ... memorable.
After my morning class and some early afternoon work, I dropped in to
speak with Mary again. That was before Brenda got off school.
"So, did she tell you?"
"She didn't have to. She was lit up like a beacon and bouncing off
the walls. The only thing she needed to say was "he's finally mine!".
You could be in for some rather, ah, interesting times."
"No kidding. That's what I'm here to talk about. You realize, of
course, now that I've said yes, what she's going to want?"
"Do we need to go through that again? I already understand what you
are going through, and how my daughter is feeling. This is her
choice. Just be good to her. It's all I ask."
Mary invited me to dinner Saturday, as a sort of celebration.
I decided to dress up for our first night. Shiny black shoes, black
socks, pressed black dress pants, and a white dress shirt with cuffs
and collar. I ignored the cologne, since most of my previous dates
preferred a natural smell if we were intending to become intimate.
Dinner was sort-of catered. I went out of my way to get some really
good Chinese take-out. It would reheat nicely in the oven or the
microwave. There was already wine and beer in the 'fridge, so that
wasn't a problem, though I doubted she had done much, if any, drinking
before. That was in addition to the usual assortment of sodas.
It took forever for four o'clock to show up. Brenda didn't show until
five. The wait was worth it.
She and her mom must have worked for hours to get her looking like
that. Her red-blonde hair was pulled back into a pair of braids, one
falling behind either shoulder. There were hints of makeup on her
face, just enough to accent her eyes, cheeks and lips. She didn't
need any more. On top she wore a beautiful soft white blouse with
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